


hinder.

by alisandy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Emotional Sex, Ex Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, as per usual, but they wont get it, eridan is nonbinary, fucking your ex to get over your new partner cheating and more life guides by eridan ampora, so forgive any typos but really i do not care its porn, stupid pointless porn, they deserve everything good, this was written at 4am whilst i could not sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 01:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisandy/pseuds/alisandy
Summary: Your name is Eridan Ampora, and spending Vriska’s party under your ex boyfriend was a horrible idea, one you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to believe you were going through with.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Sollux Captor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	hinder.

* * *

  
  
  


You ignore his slobbery kisses along the side of your jaw, likely signaling the amount of alcohol he’d consumed in just that night, and you shuddered at the thought of how damaged his liver must be — or, maybe you shuddered at the feeling of his fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt, and slowly lifting the fabric as his warm, almost damp palm pressed to the flat of your belly, and you arched into it, pressing light kisses to his eyelids. 

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and spending Vriska’s party under your ex boyfriend was a horrible idea, one you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to believe you were going through with — but you’d caught your current boyfriend, a sweaty bodybuilder with hair longer than yours in the bed with the freaky girl you’d gone to middle school with, and… Sollux Captor was here, older now — a senior too, and you’d missed those chocolate brown eyes staring down at you with a mocking glint. 

He was a stupid fling during freshman year, when you were lonely and he was stupid, and you broke up just as fast as you two had gotten together, and you never thought much of it. Why would you? He grew an entire foot, got piercings and tattoos, dated every girl he could, became popular enough to qualify for prom king — you cut your hair, let your natural ginger grow out, and started hanging out… more by yourself. You weren’t someone that fit in — a wallflower, or whatever the fuck. 

  
  


You were also entirely certain you’d imagined the glances he passed you during the previous parties you’d gone to, arm in arm with a boy who still called you by the name you wanted to forget, and you weren’t sure if the look was mocking, or bordering on furious. 

  
  


Really, you could never be sure with Sollux Captor. Even now as he finally pulled off your shirt entirely and brought his mouth to your collarbones, suckling and sloppily making out with bare skin as he cupped your ass above your skinny Abercrombie jeans and grounded down against your crotch in a way that only worked to get a high, almost honey-like moan out of your glossed and sticky and smeared lips — you were entirely sure that the moment you were done, the moment you two got back to real life, he’d go back to pretending you never existed, and you’d go back to running the school theatre. 

  
  


Somehow, you understood it. If you had the social standing he had, the friends and the personality that worked with everyone, you’d probably be the same. Him forgetting about this once he was sober was enough of a reason for you to rock your hips back against his in a way that made him lift his head, suck his teeth in, and breathe out a  _ ‘fuck, Eri,’ _ and suddenly you didn’t want to stop moving, and you didn’t want him to stop making this cinnamon toned sounds. You wanted this — this, him — more than you could imagine, and despite your lack of interest in alcohol you cup his face gently, look down when his puppy-like eyes move to look at yours, and trace over the bone structure you envy, before bringing his face to yours. 

He tasted like cigarettes and honey, and normally you’d gag and complain, but the scent and flavor was intoxicating, surrounding more and more of your senses as you rocked your body against his and dug your nails into his jaw in a way that drew an almost  _ growl _ out from his throat, and then he was kissing you sloppily with an open mouth, tongue almost violating your personal space, but you didn’t complain because the smell — the scent of Sollux Captor was everywhere, it made you warm and hot and cold and sweaty all at once, his  _ scent alone _ made you fucking drool as you opened your mouth to match him, making out as though you needed to breathe him in, pressing your tongues and lips together and molding your chests together as you rocked your hips against him because he was all around you, he was taking over every single aspect of your life in this very second, and you were choking on it and he was your buoy — your life boat, your oxygen tank, hell, his mouth and scent and body were your CPR and right now if he pulled away and left you drooling and so  _ hot _ like this, you were positive you’d flatline.

  
  


The Gods above took mercy on you, and you were so thankful you could almost cry as he flipped you two over so you could sit on his lap — right on top of his  _ throbbing _ dick that was currently under possibly two layers of fabric — without pulling your lips apart at all, even as drool and spit occasionally dribbled from his chin and yours. He reached down, seemingly wanting to get his show on the road, and that was an absolutely fucking amazing idea so when his hands finally found the button of your jeans you lifted your hips, resting your knees at either side of him and angling yourself closer to him so he could take off the button with two fingers, before undoing the zipper quickly and then his hands were in your pants and under your underwear and your knees buckled and you fell, right back onto his chest, with his hand shoved right between your legs. 

  
  


Your lips broke apart then, and you almost expected him to be pissed, because you were and you missed his mouth, you missed his heat and warmth and  _ spit,  _ but instead he ever so subtly licked at his lips before shoving two of his fingers right inside of you with no warning, resting his thumb on your clit and  _ pressing,  _ and then…  _ then _ the fucker had the audacity to chuckle at the gasp that left your sticky, smeared, and swollen lips. 

“Godth, you’re tho fucking cute.”

His voice was low, almost a grumble, but satisfied. You didn’t get to roll your eyes or even make a comment before you moved to prop yourself onto your arms at least, arching just somewhat as you tried to sit up, and then his fingers twitched once, and you got a single second to breathe — before he was practically jackhammering them in and out of you, against the constraints of those damned black fucking skinny jeans that were too tight now — they’d already been before, but now with his massive fucking hand in your pants fingering you like he was  _ trying  _ to burst the fabric open it was all too tight, way too tight and hot and his thumb started pressing and gently swirling counter clockwise and you were going to cry, or choke to death on your own spit. You gasped breathlessly, your body almost struggling with trying to figure out whether to try to rock your hips in time with his fingers or focus on breathing and gasping and letting out breathy  _ ‘uhn, uhn, ah’s  _ instead, but every time you  _ thought  _ you’d found a way to multitask, Sollux shifted a little to the left — no, to the right — or moved his thumb clockwise instead, and you were spasming now, definitely. 

You’d never came from basic fingering alone, let alone  _ orgasmed —  _ and here you were, on Vriska Serket’s bed with Sollux fucking Captor knuckles deep inside of you, babbling prayers to a God you were sure you didn’t exist as your body bowed, tightened in every single way — and he  _ didn’t fucking stop.  _

  
  


He didn’t carry you through it gently as though you were glass, instead he almost moved faster, fitting a third in there just for extra measure and then lifted the hand that's been against your lower back keeping you down upwards to your hair, grabbing a handful of the waves you’d spent hours styling with wax and mousse and tugging it forward, bringing your face and lips to his right as your body tightened the final interval, and you had nothing else to do but scream. 

  
  


You blacked out for a second or two, and when you opened your eyes your vision was spotty, Sollux’s  _ soaked _ and sticky hand was against your thigh, but he lifted it to your bare ass the moment he noticed your eyelids fluttering, and he gave the warm flesh a thoughtful knead as he nuzzled against your sweaty cheekbone and pressed a wet kiss to the side of your lips. 

“D’you want to? I don’t have a cond-”

“‘s fine, I’m on the pill,”

You cut him off with a low, sated voice that somehow managed to mask how eager you already were, and the fact that your body was  _ very quickly _ reheating. Sollux doesn’t say much else in response other than pressing another kiss that was far too gentle on your cheek as he reached downwards and scooted you forward by your ass, before reaching to undo his own pants with steady hands, and you keep your head low and pressed under his sternum because if you even risk seeing his expression now, you know you’ll be fucked for all of eternity. 

  
  


His warmth is intoxicating, his lingering scent of cinnamon and cigarette ash and now the addition of his own sweat and sex, and you’re usually stable enough to simply treat sex like a thing people do when they’re bored, but if Sollux decided to leave right now and left you this open and warm and  _ wanting _ you were sure you’d die. You lose sense of yourself long enough to lick idly at his neck, tracing the length of collarbone that jutted through skin and now his scent his on your tongue, the remnants of alcohol from the cinnamon cologne he’d put on are on the tip of your tongue now, and he gives a chuckle as you lap at his skin as though you were a cat. You never want the smell of Sollux — this, him — to leave your body, and you probably will never have him again after this, so you’re allowed to do this. 

He finishes undoing his jeans and you lift your ass in the air as an offering, mostly because you’re far too touch drunk and warm and dopey and horny to think of a better way of taking off your pants, and also because you can’t help but smile against his skin as he grabs at the skin and pulls your skinny jeans down, and you try to ignore the cool air hitting your slick thighs because he’s cupping your ass right now with his hands, his warm, cinnamon and honey hands and he’s kneading it casually while occasionally rocking it back and forth, and you almost  _ purr.  _ You are so fucking hot right now, it aches, and when he just ever so slightly presses his fingers against your crotch, you forget to breathe. 

  
  


So, you take initiative. It’s the worst thing in the world to pull away from Sollux’s neck but sacrifices must be made because your body is empty and aching and hot and dripping, and Sollux’s dick is  _ right there, _ and you shakily sit up on your knees and pull your underwear down with your jeans to the bundle of fabric at your knees, and Sollux rests his hands firmly on your hips while you take a breath as if to prepare yourself, because you’re wound up so far right now that you’re positive when you get something in you you’re going to die, or explode, or both. 

  
  


You give him the gentlest of nods and he leans forward to nudge your forehead with his nose and you want to flick him away because you’re trying to ride his dick here, but you also want him to pin you down and take you like he should, and you’re not sure you’ll get a second go at this. You lower your hips just an inch, before lowering it more until you feel him pressing into you and  _ that’s why _ he put his hands on your waist — it almost slips away with how wet you are and its laughable and also somehow embarrassing, but Sollux keeps you steady and presses you further down with a wet kiss to the damp bangs smothered onto your red and sticky forehead and it’s only been a minute but he’s deep, deep, and entirely inside you and he lets out a single throaty groan while digging his nails into your thighs and you need to breathe because you’re so, so very full, and you’re a little surprised at how good it feels. 

You give an experimental rock forward, and the motion of him rocking inside of you against all of your warmth shoots a jolt of electricity through you and Sollux perks up at the movement as well, hands now resting on your ass again as he uses it as almost a handle on your body — you try to lift yourself up with shaky thighs, and he meets you halfway by lifting you up with your ass, and giving the gentlest of rocks forward. You try once more, this time ushering his hands away when he moves to help and pressing your palm to his chest as you lift yourself, and lower yourself onto his dick again, and then you do it twice more and try to ignore the bubbling laughter in your throat because  _ it feels so fucking good _ and you’re doing a decent job.

  
  


You’re able to get a good four rides in before Sollux sits upwards, wraps his arm around your sweaty back and presses his slobbering lips to yours, and you don’t complain because that’s the best possible thing in this entire world, really, and then you feel yourself shift and you’re on your back now and he’s pulling your legs to hang on his shoulders as he kneels on Vriska’s fancy cerulean silk bed sheets and he moves, and you’re going to cry, because it’s like scratching an itch that’s always been there and his dick is so hot, and it fills you up so right and your body clearly knows what it wants and what is right because you keep your legs right where they are despite the aching and cup his face, pulling his lips even closer to yours and kissing him just so you can pant and gasp into his mouth, just so he can _ swallow _ your moans when he hits the right spot, and he’s such a good listener because he kisses you harder when you give him a moan and he digs his fingers into your ass and thrusts hard and fast into that one spot, and minutes turn into seconds and yet it feels like it’s been hours where you’re rocking your hips against his thrusting and you’re stuck in some endless abyss gasping and panting and  _ moaning _ bloody hell as he scratches and scratches and thrusts and thrusts and your body is so hot, you’re burning and you need to  _ breathe _ but he’s all around you and fucking  _ inside _ you and it feels so good and you love it, you want to trap him inside your legs forever — but first you need to move your legs and of course you can’t because the bloody bastard currently eight point five inches inside of you right now made sure to keep your pants and underwear bundled together at your knees because your shoes were still on, and now your legs were around his head, on his shoulders, and you couldn’t even move them because your jeans were at your ankles effectively trapping you into place, and you’re bent like some bonafide pin up doll and practically screaming now because his hand is down there too, his thumb pressed and swirling against your clit as he fucks you hard, and you see stars. 

  
  


You’re sure you screamed into his mouth as you arched your back and orgasmed  _ hard,  _ but Sollux swallowed up the sound eagerly and licked at your lips and the drool pooling from them as his thrusts grew erratic and then you were more wet than before, and fuller. He kept in place until he stilled, groaning at your body’s attempt at ‘milking’ his damn dick, but that didn’t stop you from crooning gently when he pulled out of you and hovered for a moment, before fixing your legs and sitting up to pull up his own pants, and run a hand through his hair. 

You swallow once, laying back against the pillow and trying to catch your breath, but going out of this room is certainly entirely futile because your legs are bent and tired, they’re the equivalent of jello, your throat is raw from screaming, and your makeup is  _ definitely _ all smeared. Sollux stays seated, catching his own breath as you pull your underwear and jeans back up, and you catch him smirking at your obvious squeamishness towards your swampy and warm and soaked underwear, but you don’t comment on it and instead put on your shirt, and run your own hand through your own hair. 

“Equius ith… a fucking idiot.”

He sounds awkward, almost embarrassed — and you ignore the painful bubbling in your chest because right now you want to kiss him, and you want to hold him close and never let him go and you  _ know _ your heart is between your legs but — right now, you think you’re in love with Sollux Captor, and if you focus on what he says, it’ll all really be so fucked. 

“It… doesn’t matter. I’m just goin’ to leav-ve him.”

“Tho… that meanth I have a chance?”

He speaks as he stands up, somehow at all not shaky or affected, and it makes sense because he wasn’t the one bent backwards, but it’s almost offensive. You inhale sharply, keeping your head low as you scoot to the front of the bed, and stand up on shaky legs, reaching over for the night stand and grabbing the keys of your Beamer. 

“In your dreams, pissface. Come on, you’re probably drunk — I’ll driv-ve you home.”

He looks hurt for a split second — his brows furrowed and those chocolate brown puppy dog eyes almost looked betrayed, but he shakes it off and chuckles in response, and then bends down to the floor to grab the jacket you’d pulled off of him and thrown to the floor, puts it on, and pulls it his own car keys. 

“I… appreciate the offer, but your legth are clearly broken becauthe you’re thtill thaking, and… I didn’t drink today.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mumble absentmindedly as you look around the nightstand for your cellphone, pausing as you kneel onto the carpet and you almost feel yourself smile — but you shake it off, and grab it from where it fell under the bed, standing up, and turning back to Sollux. “...so if you’re sober, I’ll drive myself home.”

He doesn’t fight against your decision despite how clear his expression is, and you’re sure you look the same. You want nothing more than to pull him down to your level and press his lips to yours and make a mess of the bed that isn’t yours until morning — but he nods, mumbles a ‘night’ as you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face, and for some reason, you just… wish he’d grabbed you by your wrist, and made you let him drive you home. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


You don’t call him that morning, or the day after. You try not to focus on what the exact reason is when you break up with Equius, because really you don’t fucking care if he cheated, but one week later, your lips are still bruised from where Sollux bit them and licked the wound, and your hips are finally starting to feel better, and you stare at your reflection for a long, long while — before picking up your phone, opening his stupid social media account where he posts photos of the gaming set ups he builds and game high scores he reaches, and sending him a quick and subtle message that couldn’t possibly backfire. 

He replies within two minutes with a single ‘omw’, and you’re sure if you ever lose the scent of him from your pores and clothes cinnamon rolls and Marlboros would never fucking suffice. 

  
  


* * *

  
  



End file.
